


Game On

by LadyLoec



Category: The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: 1994 Prison World (Vampire Diaries), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking, Complete, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Games, Gratuitous Smut, Human/Vampire Relationship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Sassy Damon Salvatore, Sexual Tension, Smut, Strip Poker, Truth or Dare, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 11:53:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLoec/pseuds/LadyLoec
Summary: It's May 10th 1994 for the thousandth time. Damon is bored, and when Damon is bored, he's intolerable. Bonnie has had enough of him cheating whenever they play a game, so they agree to play something he can't cheat at: Truth or Dare. It's juvenile, but it passes the time, and what harm can it do?WELL...(Not as cracky as it sounds I promise. Lots of snarky banter, delicious sexual tension, and Damon being Damon)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer, not my characters or setting, I'm just playing in the sandbox

"I'm bored."

Bonnie sighed. "Have you considered maybe doing something?"

He had been sat at the opposite end of the sofa, watching her read. He had developed a habit of it since they had been trapped here, and while she had found it creepy and irritating for a while, she had gotten used to it, and actually come to find his company strangely comforting. He ignored her question and stretched out languidly, and she pretended not to notice. That was the other (more disconcerting) thing that had changed over the time they had been there: She had started to notice him more. Like, _notice_ notice him. At first, she had been irritated with herself for even thinking of him in that way - as well as his more problematic traits, he was Elena's boyfriend for Christ's sake - but at times like now, when his shirt had ridden up his stomach and exposed a thin sliver of perfectly toned abs, it was almost impossible not to appreciate what she saw.

"What are your feelings on Jenga?"

Lowering her book, she momentarily wondered if she had the word 'sucker' tattooed on her forehead.

"Damon, we played Scrabble, you cheated. We played Monopoly, you cheated. We played Risk, you cheated. I'm not falling for it again."

He shrugged. "Then we can play something I can't cheat at."

"What do you suggest? I think even if we played chess, I'd have to avoid blinking and count the pieces every turn."

"Truth or Dare?"

"You're not serious" His answering smirk said even if he wasn't before, he definitely was now. "Are you 170 going on 12?"

"C'mon Sabrina, it'll be fun."  
"But it's so juvenile." Bonnie whined.

"I'm sure we can think of something to keep it out of the G rating." A shameless wink.

"Not a chance." She brought her book back up to her face.

"Fine. Your loss. I mean, hypothetically you could dare me to make something other than vampcakes for breakfast for a whole week. Or if I happened to choose truth, you could find out where I hid your precious _Bodyguard_ tape and all the others."

Bonnie put down her book and glared at him. She had lost that tape six weeks ago, and he had _sworn_ he didn't know anything about it, and weirdly none of the other houses in Mystic Falls seemed to have a copy. He looked completely unapologetic, and she rolled her eyes - evidently, he had been subjected to one too many chick flick nights, and this was the only way she would ever get the information out of him.

"Fine, but I'm gonna need a drink. And I get to ask first."  
His ridiculous grin said he saw that as a victory. "You got it."

 

5 minutes later, Bonnie was wondering at the bizarre sequence of events that had led to her being sat in the Salvatore boarding house, drinking her second preparatory tumbler of vodka, listening to 90s music and playing Truth or Dare with someone she had once considered the scum of the earth.

"You still want first turn?" He refilled her drink - she was pretty sure he was trying to get her drunk so she would be less inhibited, but got the feeling she was going to need it.

"Damn straight. So, what's it gonna be?"

"Dare, obviously." He took up the seat opposite her.

"Do an impression of someone we know and I have to guess who it is."

"That's it? C'mon Bon, you can do better than that."  
"I stand by my choice."

"Okay." He straightened up, taking on a more feminine posture and crossing his legs at the thigh. He batted his eyelashes a few times and mimed a hair toss. "Oh my god, I like, absolutely hate sports cars. Classy girls don't make out in sports cars. Nothing says 'I'm easy' like a gearshift in your ass."

Bonnie almost spit out her drink laughing. Even his tone was spot on. "Tell me you're not quoting Caroline verbatim?"

His posture returned to his usual nonchalant recline. "Hand to god. Why do you think I hate her so much? I've never heard something so offensive. Sports car my ass - my baby is a _muscle_ car."

She chuckled again. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

"Okay, hit me - truth."

"Fuck, marry, kill: Michaelson edition. Klaus, Elijah, Kol. Go."

"Oh god, why would you do that?! Wait... Are we including real world consequences in this? Like, whoever I gank their bloodline all dies?" A shake of the head from Damon. "Okay um... Well, I think I'll marry Elijah. He seems okay as far as bloodsuckers go, and he looks good in a suit, so at least my wedding pictures will be impressive. Klaus is basically evil incarnate, plus him and Caroline have that weird thing going on which squicks me out, and we spent so long trying to kill him so the opportunity would be kind of cathartic... So he's biting it. Which I guess leaves me sleeping with Kol - lovely. Thank you for that image. Your turn again."

"Dare."

"Are you just avoiding Truth so you don't have to tell me where my _Bodyguard_ tape is?"

"Truth is boring. Only sticks in the mud choose Truth." She threw a cushion at him, which he infuriatingly dodged. "Dare."

Bonnie thought for a second, and threw him a sideways smile. "For that next 12 hours, you have to carry me everywhere I want to go."

"Done."

"In fact, I need the bathroom, and think my drink could do with some ice." She raised her arms like a toddler asking to be picked up. "Take me."

He gave her a sideways smile before getting to his feet. "I want you to know I saw the opportunity for a dirty joke and let it pass me by." She squealed as he lifted her bridal-style. "I think I'm growing as a person."

"Good to know my maturity is rubbing off on you." They both smiled at the absurdity of it as he carried her off.

 

When he returned to collect her from the bathroom, she shrieked as he threw her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

"Ah-ah-ah. No complaining. You failed to specify how you wanted to be carried."

"Oh that's it, I'm done playing nice."

"Good to hear it. Should make things interesting. Anyway, I believe it's your turn."

"Truth...Aagh." He dumped her unceremoniously on the couch.

"Again?" Come on Bon, live a little."  
"Nope. I made my decision. Ask away."

"Fine. Tell me a secret no-one else knows, not even Caroline and Elena."

"That's too vague."  
"No rules against vague. Spill - and make it juicy or I'm ramping it up next round." Bonnie thought for a second. There was only one thing she had never told her best friends about.... But she definitely wasn't telling Damon. "Whatever made you make _that_ face just now."

She reddened. "I am not telling you that."  
"Ooh it's obviously a good one if it's got you this flustered. Spill."

Bonnie hesitated. "If we make it back, this secret DIES in 1994, okay?"

"Scout's honour"  
"Like you were ever a boy scout."  
"No, but I've probably eaten enough of them to qualify."  
"You're disgusting."

"And you're stalling."

Bonnie steeled herself. "Care, Elena and I made a deal that we would join the cheerleading squad together. We all went to tryouts together. Care was a no-brainer, and Elena just about made the cut, but I didn't - I was only a reserve. They told me before the results were posted so I wouldn't find out in front of everyone. Our pact was that it was all of us or none of us, and they were both so excited, I couldn't let them miss out. At the time, Tyler was the captain of the football team, and he was dating Laurel, the head cheerleader, so he was the only person I knew who had any influence. Unfortunately, this was also back when he was a complete dick." Bonnie took in a deep breath. "He got Laurel to put me on the team, but he... He wanted something in return."

"Bonnie Bennett!" His exaggerated shock was infuriating. "You slept with the pup?!"

"No...Not exactly." Damon quirked an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. "I blew him, okay?"

He gave her a look that was somewhere between shocked and impressed.

"Wow, so Glinda's not such a good witch after all."

"You don't get to pass comment on this: You screwed Rebekah for information!"

"Yeah but everyone in Mystic Falls knows I've been under more sheets than a Klan rally. You're the one who walks on water. Or not, evidently."

"This goes to your grave."

"Now, I'm aware this is werewolf stereotyping, but I gotta ask: Did he howl?"

"TO. YOUR. GRAVE."

"Shake his leg?"  
"DAMON!"

"Jesus, don't get your panties in a bunch. If it makes you feel better, I'll blow him too."

"And there's a mental image I never asked for, and yet will never be able to scrub from my brain."

"You're welcome."

  
"You're up. Truth or Dare?"  
"Dare."  
"Seriously? Again?"

"I told you. Truth is bo-ring. And someone has to pick up your slack in the dare department."

"Fine, but fair warning: I'm upping the ante."

"Oh, really? I would say blow me away, but given what I know now, I fear for my virtue."

Bonnie's mouth hung open in 'I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that' disbelief for a second.

"Top right of my dresser is my underwear drawer. Go upstairs, and switch out your underwear for a pair of mine. Lacy ones."

There was a short silence before a practically feral smirk came across his face. "Well, I can put a pair of yours on, but _swapping_ might be something of a challenge..."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Back in a jif. Try not to picture me naked in your room." There was a blur as he vamp-sped up the stairs. "My oh my, Bon-Bon." He shouted down. "There are some racy pieces in here. Were you planning on seducing me? If you were, I'd go for the purple ones." She was starting to wonder if it was possible to strain your eyes from rolling them so much.

A minute or so he came bounding back down the stairs, but as he went to casually saunter back to his chair, he paused to delve a hand down the back of his jeans.

"Damn, does all women's underwear have the preternatural ability to embed itself right in your ass crack or am I just lucky?"

She tried to suppress a snigger as he threw himself back in the chair.

"Which pair are you wearing?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" A waggle of his eyebrows.

"I could always make you show me on the next dare."

"I wouldn't if I were you. Coverage was minimal at best when I put them on, and I think my ass has swallowed most of the fabric on the walk down here." He straightened in the chair and hooked a thumb under his waistband, flashing a glimpse of black lace. "Happy?"  
Bonnie was almost crying with laughter. "Very. But it's gonna be hard to top that for your next Dare."

"Okay, I'll make a deal with you. For every Dare you do, I'll answer a Truth."  She looked hesitant. "Or my next questions can let us get to know each other a whole lot better. Your choice."

"I'm sticking with Truth"

"What did you think about the last time you masturbated?"

She shot him a look that would normally be accompanied by an aneurysm.

"I am not answering that."  
"I warned you we would be getting more personal. Why the reluctance? Is it kinky?" She stayed silent - In truth, it was because the last thing she had fantasised about was Damon. There wasn't much alternative inspiration in their prison world, and the guy oozed sex and walked around shirtless half the time. You would have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to find him attractive.

"Okay, I give in - gimme a Dare."

"Damn. Well I guess it's a step in the right direction, though wondering what gets your fire stoked is gonna bug me all night now. Okay... A dare... Got it. Your best cheer routine please."

"You aren't serious."  
"Go Timberwolves!" A wink.

God, he was infuriating, but she reasoned this would be marginally less humiliating than the alternative.

"Fine. Move the coffee table, I need some space."

He got up, adjusting his new underwear a little (that Dare was the gift that kept on giving) before shifting the furniture out of the way. Bonnie just looked at him expectantly for a second, raising her arms when he didn't get the hint.

"Oh c'mon Bon, it's like 3 steps."

"I don't believe I stipulated a minimum distance."

He huffed an exaggerated sigh, went over and picked her up, placing her in the middle of the floor. Instead of returning to his armchair, he threw himself down on the sofa she had been using for a better view. She was glad she was wearing sweats - jeans would have restricted her movement too much. She ran through the routine in her head to make sure she remembered it all.

"You'd better get on with it. I can feel my school spirit deflating by the second."

She glared at him, but he just smirked at her. She took up her starting position, and zoned out - no way could she do this if she was consciously aware of him watching.

"Ready? O-KAY!"

She launched into it, surprised a little how well her muscles remembered the routine. She treated it like she had any Friday night football game, and gave it her all, including the shouts, momentarily forgetting where she was and who she was with. Towards the end, her skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and her breaths were coming quick and shallow. This particular routine had a big finish, and she ended on a split. Her audience of one burst into rapturous applause and enthusiastic cheering and whooping, and through her panting breaths, she laughed. The sight of Damon peppy and animated melted away any embarrassment she should have felt.

"That was so much fun. I forgot how much I enjoyed cheering."

He got up to retrieve her.

"Very inspiring. I have the sudden urge to go and do manly things or score a touchdown or something." Damon lifted her effortlessly, hooking his arm under her legs. "Ugh, you're all sweaty."

"I think you'll find it's not sweat, it's inspiration perspiration." She wiped a hand on the back of her neck and smeared her sweat on his face. "See?"

Clearly unfazed, he responded by leaning in and licking a broad stripe up her cheek before dumping her back on the sofa and taking up the seat next to her.

"Ew! Damon!"

"Don't write cheques your ass can't cash, Bennett."

"Speaking of which, I took your Dare, which I believe means you owe me a Truth."

"It does, doesn't it. So whatcha gonna ask?"

Bonnie thought for a moment. She wanted something good, but didn't want to scare him off of taking any future questions.

"If you could take back something you did, what would it be?"

"That's easy. Reading _Twilight_."

"If you aren't going to take this seriously, what's the point?"  
"I'm serious as a heart attack. That's like, ten hours of my life I am never getting back. More if you count sitting through all the movies."

"Okay, this does not for one second mean I am accepting this as your answer, but... Why did you watch the movies if you hated the book?"  
"Yet another reason for me to hate Care-Bear. Honestly, I have done some questionable things to get laid in my time, but sitting through _'and so the lion fell in love with the lamb'_ in both print and technicolour is by far the worst. Eurgh, I feel dirty just thinking about it." Bonnie laughed, then there was a beat of silence as they both took a drink. Damon was still looking at his when he spoke again, his voice quiet. "Attacking you."

"Huh?"

"Back when I first came to town looking to free Katherine, when Emily destroyed the amulet and I bit you." His eyes were still downcast. "That's what I'd take back."

Bonnie was stunned into silence for a moment. She was hoping for an answer that wasn't all bluster, but she would never have anticipated that his answer might be that.

"Why?" He threw her a slightly incredulous look. "I didn't mean it like that. I mean... Aren't there other things you'd rather take back? Going after Katherine in the first place? Killing Stefan's best friend? Compelling Caroline? Or any of a million other bad calls I don't even know about?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I'm not a good guy, Bonnie. And you're right, I've made a hell of a lot of unfathomably stupid decisions in my time." He fidgeted with his hands as he spoke. "Lots of them worse than what I did to you. And they've almost all hurt someone: Either someone I care about, or someone whose name I can't remember, sometimes even me. But a lot of them I can't take back, because if I did, I wouldn't be who I am now. Where I am now. Take Katherine for example, if I hadn't followed her to the ends of the earth, I wouldn't have come back to Mystic Falls. Never would have met Elena, or you. I never would have made peace, or something like it, with my brother." He was right, Bonnie realised. He couldn't take back something that was a formative part of his life, no matter how catastrophic the fallout. "But hurting you? All it did was terrify you, cause you pain, make you hate me more than you already did. Maybe if I hadn't done it, we might have been friends. That, I can regret."

Bonnie's heart felt heavy all of a sudden.

"You _are_ my friend." He looked up at her then, and the look was so honest, so bare of any bravado, that it threatened to knock the wind from her. She had never seen him like that. "It might have taken the end of the world to make it happen, but..."

She reached and took his hand in hers, and offered him a smile. It took a second for him to smile back, but when he did, there was a glint of mischief in it, and before she could question it, he yanked her arm and she squealed as he pulled her into a hug, before settling into the embrace. It had been a long time since anyone had held her, and she had forgotten how nice it felt. His breath brushed her neck as his head rested there, which elicited another reaction she hadn't been expecting: A soft ' _hmm_ ' of her own exhaled breath that had her relaxing into his arms.

"Y'know, this would probably be a really mushy sentimental moment if there wasn't a pair of your panties diving for treasure in my ass right now."

She sputtered a laugh. "Trust you to ruin the moment."

"Bad decisions are my strong suit, remember?" His lips brushed her skin as he spoke, and damn if it didn't make her whole body tingle in a way that made her want to make a very bad decision of her own.

 

It took more self restraint than she wanted to admit to pull away. When she did, the expression on his face was one she couldn't place.

"So, um, I think that makes it my turn." His expression didn't change. "Dare, I guess."

That unreadable expression lingered for a few seconds, before being replaced with his usual smirk.

"I want you to grab a jar of peanut butter and a spoon from the kitchen. Dip the spoon in, then seductively lick it clean."

Part of her wanted to protest, but at least it was a spoon and not licking it off of him.

"No problem." He looked vaguely surprised, but surprise turned to a frustrated eye roll when she raised her arms again. She shrieked as he slung her over his shoulders like a milkmaid's yoke, thankful her skin tone hid some of the furious blush that rose in her cheeks at one of his hands braced on the back of her thigh.

When they returned, Bonnie knelt on the sofa facing him, determined not to show any hint of uneasiness or embarrassment. She opened the jar and dipped the spoon in, making sure not to take too much. She swirled it so none would drip, made eye contact, and put the spoon in her mouth. As she closed her lips around it, her eyelids fluttered closed, and she made an exaggerated sound of pleasure at the taste. She felt the couch shift as if Damon fidgeted in his seat, but when she opened them, he remained visibly impassive. She pulled the spoon from her mouth, dragging her lips over it as she went, and flicked her tongue out and over it in a final flourish.  

Damon's voice was a mocking falsetto: " _Oh, Tyler_ , _you taste so good_."

"DAMON!" Bonnie threw the scatter cushion behind her at him as hard as she could, but he just laughed. "Oh I am so done playing nice."  
"Bring it on, Bennett. Truth."

She pursed her lips for a moment as she thought of her question. "Tell me about the most embarrassing thing to happen to you during sex."

"Does it have to have been embarrassing for me?"

"Well I'm guessing getting caught with you is embarrassment enough for most people, so yeah."

He tipped his head back like he was trying to decide on one. "Okay got it. First of all, you know I've not only had sex with women, right?"

Bonnie tried to keep the blush rising up her neck from reaching her face. "You've hinted, but never outright told me."

"It's not something I particularly mind people knowing, it just doesn't tend to come up in conversation all that often because I prefer women. But what I don't think I've ever told anyone is that the first time... first few times... were while I was still human."  
Bonnie couldn't hide her shock at that. The 1800's weren't exactly known for being progressive. "Really?"

A nod. "While I was serving. When we were decamped in more populated areas, we rarely spent a night alone - women threw themselves at a man in uniform. But out at the front lines? Not a whole lot of ports in a storm, if you get my meaning. Anyways, months without seeing a female face, thinking every day might be your last, yada yada... It was actually lot more common than you might think, but still grounds for dishonourable discharge or worse if you got caught. Anyways, I'd been sneaking around with a guy from my unit, Henry, for a while. We'd been through some stuff together when I needed a leave of absence to visit Stefan, so we were used to keeping each others' secrets. There was this new sergeant, he was inflicted on us after our last one ate a grenade. A real ball buster. Decided that putting bullets in people while trying not to get shot all day wasn't hard enough, and had us reorganising the camp after our day's rotations on the lines. Long story short, we were miserable and frustrated, and we all know the best cure for that." A waggle of his eyebrows meant even if she didn't before, she definitely did now. "So I pull Henry into one of the munitions tents a few minutes before lights out. Risk of getting caught and some serious pent up frustration mean this was not a candlelight and romance affair... Finesse completely out the window, we're just going at it. Hard. And, as it turns out, not very discretely. So once we've both gotten what we needed, we nonchalantly waltz out... Only to find ourselves face to face with said ball-busting sergeant and a good few of his friends with stripes. Turns out in the camp reorganisation, the munitions tent now backed onto the officers' sleeping quarters. And they had heard _everything_."

"Oh my god. What happened?"

"They beat us bloody - said we would get our marching orders the next day once the top brass put their stamp on it. I snuck out before first light and made my way home. Guess Henry had the same idea - I ran into him in Mystic falls a few months later. Katherine had turned him - she always did like pretty boys." He took a swig of bourbon, taking a moment to top up his glass. "And that, my friend, is the unabridged story of my desertion from the confederate army. I almost wish I'd taken the discharge - would've been worth the beating I'd have gotten just to see the look on daddy dearest's face when he heard."

"Wow. Certainly puts my story of Elena walking in on Jeremy and I into perspective. I guess that makes it my turn. I'm liking this soul-baring thing you've got going on, so I'll take another Dare."

 

Damon gave a feline smile, which Bonnie had come to realise meant 'be afraid'.

"For the next week, you have to dress solely in items from Kelly Donovan's closet."

Bonnie's mouth hung open. In the present, Matt's mom was known for dressing fairly provocatively, but a younger Kelly Donovan had it and was NOT afraid to flaunt it. She didn't own a single dress that she didn't have to be poured into, or that went past mid-thigh. She lived and died in daisy dukes, heels, and tops that barely kept things family friendly. Bonnie remembered as a kid not understanding the way other moms would sometimes slap their husbands when they were caught gawping at her. And Damon knew exactly what he was getting her into, as they had spent a drunken evening a couple of weeks ago going through the gang's family photo albums.

"Are you in any way open to negotiation on this one?".

"Nope." He popped the 'p' as he said it. Smug bastard. "Unless you want to forfeit, of course?"

"What would the forfeit be?" Bonnie asked warily.

"That's for me to know, and you to dot dot dot." He winked. "But you can't forfeit a forfeit, so whatever it is, you would have to take it." 

Bonnie reasoned it was a fair assumption that he had something suitably objectionable in mind. Which she felt left her with only one option.

"Fine, I'll do it. But I get to wear my own shoes and underwear. And I expect you to keep all caveman ogling to a bare minimum."

He acted offended. "Me? As if I would do such a thing." When her only response was to glare at him, he raised his hands in mock surrender. "I swear I will be a perfect gentleman."

"Let's not set the bar too high - I know your limits. A promise not to look up my skirt when I sit down or stand up will do just fine."

"Deal. Hey, I think I like this game. Lucky for you I'm still feeling all confessional. Truth me."

Bonnie owed him big for that last one. "Okay. If you had a choice, right now, between fresh, hot, human blood straight from the vein, or sex - and I mean good, headboard banging, toe curling sex - what would it be?"

"Oh come on now, that's not a fair question. Unless you're offering up a vein, that is?"

"I'm not. And it's so not unfair, what's unfair about it?"

"Aside from the fact it is definitely cruel and unusual punishment to even mention the possibility? Separating the two is just plain wrong. Champagne and strawberries, movies and popcorn, blood and sex. You can't have one without the other."

"Maybe for you, but I'm not sure the women you compel to let you use them as sexy juice boxes would agree."

"Don't knock it til you've tried it, judgypants." She must have still looked pretty unconvinced. "As well as the nutritional qualities blood has for vampires, feeding fresh also has an aphrodisiac effect. And it is instantaneous." He clicked his fingers for emphasis. "So, playing your little game, if I were to choose blood from the vein, it feels like the equivalent of ten hours of foreplay with no pay off." Bonnie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She knew that feeling, or something close at least. Jeremy had often failed to get her off, and she would be left frustrated and climbing the walls. And that was after like 30 minutes max, including the sex. "If on the other hand I opt for sex without feeding... You know when you have a cold and you're eating but you can't smell or taste anything? It's something like that. Everything is kind of dull and bland, at least in comparison to what it can be. I mean, it's still sex, but it's sex lite." 

Bonnie swallowed dryly. She knew he would probably mock her for this, but she had to ask. 

"And for your partner?"

"If you're curious, I'd be very willing to demonstrate." She fixed him with a glare that she hoped said _'not even if hell freezes over'_ rather than conveying the curiosity she really felt. "Being bitten signals your brain into survival mode, releasing chemicals that enhance your senses. That, combined with the high you experience from the blood loss, makes things intense. Scrape-you-off-the-ceiling, you'll-swear-you-saw-God intense. And that's not just my ego speaking: Remember, I was on the receiving end of this as a human. And once a human has experienced the perks of a lover in the throes of that aphrodisiac effect, they won't go back. Ever. In fact, it's not uncommon for humans to become so obsessed with finding another vampire to be with that they get themselves killed in the process." Bonnie couldn't stop her face from betraying her shock. She couldn't imagine anything being so intense, so addictive, that you would risk your life for it. "So, you see why it's unfair to make me choose."

Bonnie crossed her legs at the unwelcome feeling of arousal that had come over her. Listening to Damon talk about sex should come with an age rating and a splash zone warning: First five rows WILL get wet. She was still determined to get an answer, though.

"Life's not fair, Damon. I want an answer."

He threw his arms up in mock indignation. "Were you not listening to a word I just said?" She kept her face impassive. "Okay... While I can practically feel my throat rubbing against itself like sandpaper at even the thought of turning down a hot meal, I would trade my left nut to get laid right now."

Bonnie was used to Damon's vulgarity by now, and she had an inkling that he would choose sex. She didn't know whether it was the confessional nature of the game or the alcohol she had drunk, but rather than gloat in her foreknowledge, she found herself commiserating.

"Oh thank god it's not just me." She was momentarily dumbstruck by him throwing his head back and laughing. "What? Only a man gets to miss sex? Sometimes the fact you're from the 1800s is painfully obvious."

He slowly regained his composure. "Oh it's not that. It's that your last lay - maybe your only lay, I don't know - was Little Gilbert. And I don't believe for one second he was anything worth pining over."

She would normally have jumped to Jeremy's defence, but this evening had left her feeling oddly confessional.

"Of course I miss him... I just happen to miss my vibrator more." She cracked a smile and they both laughed. "Seriously though, I am one bad day away from asking you to just lay on top of me for a while."

To her surprise, he didn't immediately jump to mocking her, instead sharing in her lament. 

"It's messed up, but I think I actually miss the sounds I could wring out of a partner more than the act itself. I swear, if you want to rub one out, you'd better make sure I'm outta the house or vervain me in the cellar first. I will not be held responsible for my actions."

"Waaaay ahead of you, Count Fuckula. Why do you think I keep sending you to the grocery store?"

"First of all, no nicknaming - that's my thing. And second, are you shitting me? You mean to tell me that every time I've had to haul my ass halfway across town for a carton of juice or a loaf of bread, it's because you were feeling a little frisky?!"

"What? Your super hearing is a bitch to work around. And I'm on to you as well, by the way. No-one takes that many showers in a day."

"I'm not mad Bon, I'm actually sort of impressed by the ingenuity. But maybe throw the guy down the hall a bone next time and just lock your door instead."

Bonnie tried not to blush furiously at the thought and just gave him a half smile. "I might just do that."

 

Damon's lip quirked in another of those smiles that she knew meant trouble. "I do believe it's your turn, witchy."

"One more dare."

"I was so hoping you'd say that." Bonnie's stomach flipped a little wondering what the hell he had in mind. "I want you to - while maintaining eye contact - undo my shirt buttons with your mouth."

Her eyes shot to his to see if he was in any way joking. He wasn't. 

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

A million reasons, none of which she could think of right now.

"And if I forfeit, I won't be able to back out of whatever that is?"

"Nope."

She was silent for a moment as she weighed her options.  

It must have been just a beat too long, as he spoke again. 

"I'll give you another option: You can let me do it to you."

That was definitely not an option. Just the thought of feeling his moist breath on the skin of her chest, or if his lips grazed her stomach, all while his eyes stayed locked to hers... And if that weren't enough, he'd also have to kneel between her legs to do it, and there's no way he wouldn't be able to scent her arousal that close. And the forfeit was unknown - the forfeit could be worse.

"Fine. I mean, I'll do it."

"You sure? I figured you would wuss out of this one."

The challenge in his tone stiffened her resolve. With one swift movement (more graceful than she should have been capable of after drinking), she swung her leg over him and moved to straddle his lap, not daring to lower herself just in case he could feel how wet she was. 

"Just goes to show you don't know me as well as you think."

"Apparently not."

She kept her eyes focused on his as she rested her hands against his chest and lowered her mouth to the first button. She worried it with her teeth, but wasn't able to get it undone. She felt rather than heard him laugh, but with her mouth occupied, she gave him a playful slap on the arm, trying not to laugh herself. She had a sudden flash of inspiration and used her tongue to hold the button in place while her teeth pulled the buttonhole over it and... Voilà! One down.

 

Once she learned the technique, it was much easier, and the challenge became keeping her mind on the task at hand and off of the hard body under her hands: A body that was being revealed inch by inch as she worked. When she reached a certain point, it became easier to slip down to kneel between his legs to do the rest. She kept an even distance, though it had been very tempting to slide down against his body to try and get a reaction out of him. The problem was, that came with an uninvited (but not unwelcome) mental image of Damon's hand twisting in her hair as he pushed her head down on his dick. She wondered briefly what sounds he might make if she went down on him, before a concern flashed in her head that he still had her locked in his gaze, and that it might be plainly written on her face exactly what she was thinking about. His face, infuriatingly, gave away nothing, so she schooled her own into neutrality as she did the last couple of buttons. She pulled back with a triumphant look on her face, putting her hands either side of him to push herself back up, but while she tried her best to avoid looking at the newly bared expanse of flawless skin, and the sinfully tempting treasure trail she knew ran from his navel to disappear beneath his waistline, she dared a look... And immediately burst into a fit of giggles. Jutting just above his waistline was a thin band of black lace. She had completely forgotten he was wearing her panties. Evidently, he hadn't, because he finally let the poker face crack and started to laugh.

 

"Okay, well on that note, I think we're done. May I offer you a lift?" He was still sworn to carry her for the rest of the night.

She eventually got herself back to a state where she could speak. "Wait. Wait. One more."

"Fine, but make it quick. I can't wait to get out of these things. Truth."

"What was it you were afraid I would ask you that made you not want to pick Truth?"

His face turned from amusement to something darker she couldn't place. "Gonna plead the 5th on that one, Bon."

She was puzzled. "What?"

"I forfeit. What's my penalty?" 

Bonnie wasn't sure what to say. She never thought he wouldn't answer. "Give me until I get upstairs to think about it." He went to lift her but she stopped him. "Nuh-uh. Turn around, I want a piggyback."

He rolled his eyes, but there was no venom in the gesture. "Whatever. Get on." 

He carried her upstairs, and while the stunt he had pulled with the underwear had defused the situation a little, she still tried not to think about his hands on her thighs. He offered to take her to bed, but considering how heated things had gotten, she asked him to set her down at her door. 

"So, what wicked idea have you come up with for my forfeit?"

"I want to pick our next game. For tomorrow night."

"Does this mean I have finally proved undeserving of being branded a cheater?"

"That remains to be seen. I guess we'll see tomorrow."

"And what will we be playing?"

She let a playful smile spread across her lips. She knew he wouldn't see this one coming. 

"Strip poker."

To his credit, he kept his face mostly neutral, but his eyes betrayed his surprise. Good to know where his tells are. 

"If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask. But I should warn you, I'm pretty good at poker."

"I'm better. Is that gonna be a problem?"

Bonnie had always been good at poker. She planned to fleece him completely. It was inevitable she would lose a hand or two, but she could own that. 

In an instant, that insufferable smirk was back. "Not for me." He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "But I'm not the one who's gonna be dressed in Kelly Donovan's finest." He pulled away and fixed her with a triumphant look. "Sleep tight, Bon."

Bonnie let her eyes fall shut. _Fuck_ , she had forgotten all about that. Still, she was sure she could cobble together something that still allowed her enough leeway to lose a couple items.

"Try not to moan too loudly when you dream about me." He shouted back down the corridor. She gave his retreating form the finger before closing the door. 

 

Bonnie headed to the bathroom and readied herself for bed, a wicked thought entering her mind as she brushed her teeth. She fought to calm the butterflies in her stomach and finished her evening routine, before heading back to the door. She locked it with an audible 'click', and suppressed a smile at the mental image of Damon's ears pricking up down the hall. She walked slowly to her bed, trying to keep her pulse steady as she settled herself under the sheets. She took a steadying breath before running a first tentative caress over her chest, her skin tingling at the touch. For a second, she wondered if she should really be doing this - if it would be crossing a line - but her reservations melted away with the next pass of her hand. After the charged way this evening had gone, she needed the release. She loosed a sigh, which quietly disappeared into the dark. She called to mind the moments earlier that had stirred her arousal - his breath at her neck as they had embraced, the ways he had looked at her, the intensely sensual way he had talked about sex, and finally the image her mind had conjured of him breathless with pleasure as she wrapped her mouth around him. The room's hush was broken by her stuttered breath as her body started to respond in earnest.

_No going back now - there's no way he didn't hear that._

Bonnie imagined she could feel him listening as her heartbeat quickened and her thighs clenched around the emptiness between them. Slowly, she ventured one hand down, brushing across the damp fabric at her apex. A first soft moan, carried on the silence, escaped her then as she pressed against the lace. She dragged her fingers against her folds, gently at first, but becoming more insistent with each pass. When her fingers did finally venture beneath the sodden material, she swore at the much needed contact, her back practically arching off the bed when she skimmed her clit. It didn't take long before there was a thin sheen of perspiration sticking the sheets to her skin, her heart was pounding, and her breaths were becoming heavier. Knowing that he was listening was a huge turn on, and she couldn't help but be more vocal than she normally would, letting moans and sighs and gasps spill from her unhindered. When she felt a telltale tightening in her core, she squeezed her thighs together around her hand until it almost ached, but the increase in friction was enough to push her over the edge. She cried out something barely comprehensible as she came, her orgasm pulsing through her whole body, more intense than any she had had in months, maybe longer. As she came down from her high, she whispered a quiet message for her unseen audience: "Mention this and you're a dead man. Well, dead-er. Sweet dreams."

Satiated, she slept better than she had since fate had swept her back in time.


	2. Chapter 2

Bonnie awoke with a slight headache and dry mouth that told her she had drunk a little too much before bed, and a dampness on her thighs that told her she'd had a good time once she'd got there. As she regained consciousness, she started to remember the previous night.  
It had to be some kind of weird dream. There's no way that really happened...  
It had. She had played Truth or Dare with Damon. She had told him things that made her flush with embarrassment. He had told her things that made her stomach tingle. She had half-undressed him for Christ's sake. And...  
Oh god. She looked over at her door - still locked.  
She had masturbated for him. Had actually gotten off on the idea of him listening. She threw herself back on the pillows and wondered how the hell she was supposed to face him - let alone look him in the eye. And she had proposed strip poker of all things?! Give a girl enough rope and she'll hang herself. The only bright spot is that she remembered telling him never to mention what she done last night. If she was lucky and he wasn't being a smug bastard, he might keep to it and she would be able to pretend nothing had ever happened. Yeah, that's likely.

Well, she mused, she wouldn't find out if she stayed in bed all day. She threw the covers off and headed to the bathroom, doing the bare minimum to make herself clean and presentable, and went to her armoire to pick out an outfit... Before realising she had promised to wear Kelly Donovan's clothes for the next week. Shit. She would have to go over to her place and collect some. A task she definitely couldn't face with a hangover and no coffee. With a heavy head and a knot of nerves in her stomach, she trudged downstairs.

Damon was in the kitchen sat on the chair at the head of the table, nose buried in his much loved copy of Call of the Wild for the 800th time. He didn't look up as he spoke to her.  
"Morning sunshine. Cereal's out and there's a fresh pot of coffee."  
For now, at least, he seemed to be acting normal, which is to say infuriatingly unaffected by the quantity of alcohol he consumed. Bonnie offered up a silent prayer of thanks that he seemed to be ignoring the elephant in the room.  
"Thank god. I think I could drink the whole pot. I just remembered I have to traipse over to Kelly's place and raid her closet and that sounds actually impossible without caffeine." She grabbed the biggest much she could find and filled it almost to the brim. She had to physically stop herself from moaning at the taste.  
"Figured you might say that." He inclined his head to a suitcase in the corner of the room she hadn't noticed before. "I went over there this morning and picked up a few things. Don't worry, there's at least 6 things in there that will only make you pull a slightly disgusted face."  
"Oh my god, thank you. You are a lifesaver." She hugged her coffee close as she made her way to the dining table and took a seat to grab some cereal. Damon flashed her an unreadable look over the top of his book before standing and making his way to the door.  
"I'm gonna go read in the library. Holler if you need me."  
Okay, maybe not acting completely normal then.  
"You aren't gonna sit with me?"  
He stopped and turned to face her. That unreadable expression on his face turning to something like discomfort.  
"No can do, witchy. I'll see you later to kick your ass at cards, though."  
Bonnie was dumbstruck. She never would have thought he might be the one to act awkward the next day. In a fit of pique, she stormed after him, grabbing him by the arm and turning him to face her.  
"Look, I know I said not to mention anything, but clearly something about last night has you acting weird, so apparently we have to talk about it." He was stock still and remained completely silent. "Wow, this is so juvenile. So what, you're just gonna ignore me for the rest of forever?"  
"It's not..." His first words were grated out through gritted teeth, then all of a sudden it was like someone had let him off the leash. "Look Bon, you want to act like last night never happened? Fine. No problem. I can pretend I didn't hear anything. Not the way your legs slid against the sheets, or the way your heart fluttered, or even the fact you might just have moaned my name when you came." His face darkened and his fangs were peeking through. "I can pretend I wasn't climbing the walls thinking about breaking down your door and sinking every part of my anatomy I could into every part of yours that would take me if that's what you want. But for fuck's sake, Bon, have the common decency to shower before swanning down to breakfast smelling like you've been fucked six ways from Sunday." His fangs receded and his eyes returned to some semblance of normality, though more black than normal remained. He threw her hand off of his arm. "Are we done talking now?"  
Before she could regain her composure and say anything, he had stormed off at speed and she heard his bedroom door slam shut.

Bonnie didn't quite know why she was crying. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel. Flattered? Embarrassed? Guilty? This was her fault, after all. She had pushed things in this direction by her actions last night. Damon made her feel womanly, sensual, in a way she had never felt before. But he was also her best friend - her only friend in the world, now. Laughing and fighting and talking with him was the only thing that kept her sane. Not to mention the huge question mark that was Elena - was she even a factor anymore? Bonnie had let her heart - correction: her body - rule her head, and had inadvertently put so much at risk in the process. She felt so stupid. Her feet felt heavy with each step as she grabbed the suitcase and trudged up the stairs to her room. 

The faucet squeaked as she turned it, letting the water cascade into the drain until it ran hot before putting the plug in. Far hotter than normal. Bonnie reasoned if it didn't feel like flames licking her skin, she wouldn't feel clean. When the tub was filled and steaming she shut off the faucet and gently lowered herself in, wincing slightly at the temperature. Her skin pickled and reddened at the intense warmth. She started to clean herself, but the heat rising in her skin wasn't entirely because of the scalding water. Her unbidden mind couldn't stop replaying the charged moments between her and Damon. She would wash her neck only to recall his breath lingering there, scrub the back of her leg only to feel the ghost of his hands as he had lifted her. Worst was when she thought of the pure hunger - for her blood and for her body - that had flashed across his face earlier, when he had told her what her teasing had done to him. She sighed defeatedly - this was pointless. It was like her body was rebelling - she had scrubbed her skin until it was almost raw, and yet she was so filled with want that she was sure her scent would still betray her. 

She was broken out of her despondency by a knock at the bathroom door. She instinctively went to cover herself.  
"Bonnie? Don't worry, I'm not coming in. I just... I just wanted to say... About earlier... I'm a dick. Don't listen to me." She half smiled - he sounded, as he always did when he apologised, like he was trying to come up with any way he could to avoid saying the words 'I'm sorry'. "I got you something. A peace offering. I'll leave it on your bed. See you later, okay?"  
She didn't hear his footsteps as he left; he rarely made a sound when he walked unless he was trying to - something Bonnie had struggled to get used to as he made her jump out of her skin several times a day when they had first arrived in the prison world. There was just the 'snick' of her bedroom door closing to indicate he was gone. Bonnie got out of the bath and briskly dried herself, wrapping her towel around her and opening the door to see what he had left on the bed. A smile immediately broke onto her face - it wasn't wrapped or anything, but her tape of The Bodyguard was nestled on her pillow along with a post-it and a simple message.  
'Sorry - D' 

A half hour later, Bonnie made her way downstairs. It had taken ten minutes to dry off, and the remaining 20 to try and dress herself in Kelly Donovan's clothes without winding up feeling more naked than if she had actually been naked. Eventually, she had settled for a black tank top that had corset-style lacing down the sides of her stomach (mercifully starting below the bust line), a black bolero, and the inescapable light blue stonewash daisy dukes that seemed to be the only option she didn't have to paint on. She had added a black and white check scarf of her own and a pair of long white socks, which seemed to take the look out of the realms of 'I charge by the hour' and just edging into 'cute', but she still felt a little too sexy for comfort. Especially given what had happened in the past 24 hours.

When he wasn't downstairs, but the Camero was still in the driveway, Bonnie screwed her courage to the sticking place and headed for his room. He had obviously heard her approach and opened the door before she arrived, startling her a little. He spoke first.  
"I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me."  
Bonnie held up his peace offering. Along with a weak smile, it served as her armour.  
"You left me no choice. I don't have anyone else to watch this with."  
Damon let a small smile of his own through.  
"You know just because I feel bad for shouting at you, doesn't mean I have to be nice about Kevin Costner's receding hairline."  
"Yes it does. It also means you have to make the popcorn."  
"Does not."  
"Paragraph 3, section 2 of the Frenemies Act 1994 says otherwise." A suppressed smile told her he was willing to play along.  
"Yeah? And which section covers Truth or Dare violations? Cos I don't remember packing that scarf or those socks at Kelly's place."  
Bonnie improvised.  
"Article 12, subsection 5: Clothing Dares. 'Where not explicitly prohibited, the recipient of the Dare may embellish his or her outfit with accessories as he or she sees fit to avoid misidentification as a streetwalker.'"  
There was a moment of stand-off before Damon narrowed his eyes. "Okay you were quick off the bat with the bullshit so you get away with it. Get downstairs before I change my mind."

\---

"Is this supposed to be sexy?"  
Bonnie rolled her eyes. It turns out some things never changed: As long as the sky is blue and the grass is green, Damon will always complain about The Bodyguard.  
"Are you kidding me? Of course it is. It's provocative, and erotic and... God men are so simple. Just because there aren't thrusting body parts, doesn't mean it's not hot. The feminine silk scarf and the masculine blade - it's sex via imagery."  
"'Sex via imagery'? Did they teach you that in 'Crappy Chick Flicks 101: The Science of Bad Sex'?"  
The argument raged until long after the credits had rolled and well into dinner.  
"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Bon-Bon, but The Bodyguard fails to be sexy almost as badly as it fails to be romantic."  
"Okay, so in your esteemed opinion, what movies do fit the bill?"  
"Which bill?"  
"Sexy and romantic."  
"Well which do you want, sexy or romantic?"  
"There." She banged her hand on the table for emphasis. "And that's the problem in a nutshell: For men the two are separate, but for women they go together."  
"Okay, I'm gonna live forever and I still don't have time to unpack the latent sexism in that statement."  
"It's true! I can't get excited by a romance that doesn't have that spark - the chemistry - and if it's all about the sex, I don't get emotionally invested in it. It needs both."  
"Au contraire. If it has both, it has to compromise. You can't have steamy, no holds barred sex if you're burning screen time on mushy 'I love you's. And you can't get swept up in the epic love story if your main characters are too busy gettin' busy. The one exception to this rule is Gone with the Wind, because it's a cinematic masterpiece or fight me."  
She knew better than to argue with him on that one - Damon was strangely obsessed with that movie.  
"Okay, give me one example of a movie with good sex that doesn't have a love story."  
"The Last Seduction."  
"Never seen it."  
"You've never seen The Last Seduction? Wow, every misconception and weird attitude you have about sex and relationships suddenly makes sense."  
Bonnie was incredulous. "What? It's a movie. How can not seeing one movie - one with a title that sounds like softcore porn, I might add - have anything to do with my feelings about sex?"  
"Simple. Because it's physically impossible to believe that love and sex can't be mutually exclusive after you've watched Linda Fiorentino fuck a guy against a chain link fence."  
"Oh yeah, that sounds like a healthy relationship." Sarcasm dripped from every syllable of Bonnie's response.  
"It's not, and that, my friend, is my point. She isn't some ditzy heroine in love. Actually, she's kind of a sociopath, but that's besides my point. She knows what she wants, and she isn't afraid to take it. Her only relationship of any significance is the one she has with her own raw sexuality, and her falling in love wouldn't make the film better or the sex hotter. If it wasn't for the fact it hasn't been released yet in our little time capsule, I could show you how unbelievably right I am."  
Bonnie sighed. "Annoyingly, I can't refute you without actually seeing the movie, so it looks like this argument is on hiatus until a miracle brings us home."  
"But for the avoidance of doubt, I'm clearly winning as it stands."  
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You keep telling yourself th-" Bonnie paused mid sentence. "Wait, did you say she was fucking the guy against the fence? As in she was on top?"  
A smirk and a nod. "Oh yeah. Heels and fingers dug into the chain link."  
While she was still a little hazy on the mechanics, Bonnie had to admit that it made for an intensely erotic mental image.  
"Damn, that does sound hot. Okay, so maybe I can concede that a movie doesn't need romance to be sexy. BUT that doesn't mean that a love story can't also be sexy."  
He sighed. "I'm gonna have to pry that Bodyguard video out of your cold dead hands, aren't I?"  
"Absolutely."  
"What about when I kick your ass at poker tonight? Can my prize be burying the damn thing in the woods?"  
Bonnie hoped he didn't notice when her heart stuttered a little.  
"We're still playing?"  
"Is there any reason we shouldn't."  
His eyes locked with hers in challenge, putting her in an impossible position: If she didn't mention 'the incident' last night, she would have to carry on as if nothing had happened; If she brought it up, she was acknowledging that it did happen.

The idea of having the conversation was abhorrent. She knew exactly what she should say:  
'Let's be adults here. What happened was bad, but we both have the self control to not let our bodies rule our minds. Think of the consequences. Think of Elena, Jeremy.'  
Simple, right? But she knew that wasn't what would come out of her mouth. Not as long as Damon was giving her a look she presumed he thought passed for innocence, but instead looked distinctly like sin incarnate. Not to mention that if by some miracle she stayed on script, it would put a definite end to the ever-so-dangerous-but-completely-addictive flirtation between the two of them, and she wasn't entirely sure that was what she wanted, either. Then again the other option was equally impossible: Controlling her impulses was already hard enough around Damon when they were both fully clothed. If she brought her A-game and luck was on her side, she would only lose a few items of clothing, but that would still put her half-naked in front of him. Just imagining the unapologetic way his eyes would run over ever square inch of flesh she bared to him was enough to make her thighs clench in desperation. And of course if she did well, that would mean watching as he shed the layers of clothing that barely disguised the hard, gorgeous body beneath them. He would probably make a real show of it, knowing him...  
"Not that I can think of."  
His reply was a smirk that was pure predator. Oh she was so screwed.  
"Excellent answer." He skirted the table, heading past her towards the door. "How about you load this into the dishwasher, while I build us a fire?"  
"What do we need a fire for? It's May. And you don't even feel the cold!"  
"Well see, you're all warm and toasty now." He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially in her ear, and she tried to ignore the way her body reacted to his proximity. "But what about in an hour or so when I've won everything but your panties?"  
Bonnie's mouth dropped open, affronted, before she narrowing her eyes into a scowl. "I am going to utterly destroy you."  
"I look forward to seeing you try. I'm wearing my good underwear just in case." A wink. "See you in a few."

\---

By the time Bonnie made it into the parlour, the fire was crackling away in the hearth. Damon was sat on the rug in front of it shuffling cards with the kind of dexterity that just made her want to watch his hands for the rest of the evening. He didn't look up as he spoke to her, which was a habit of his she had always hated until he explained to her (when you can hear someone's heartbeat from a mile away, it's tricky to pinpoint exactly when they enter a room, and timing it wrong can be enough to alert a suspicious human. Therefore Damon always acted like he didn't notice or care when someone entered a room).  
"So, what are our rules for the evening?"  
Bonnie played it safe and started with a safe aspect.  
"Texas hold'em is classic."  
"I was thinking five card draw. Keeps things interesting."  
Bonnie scoffed. As far as she was concerned, five card draw was for kids.  
"Only if you don't know how to play grown-up cards."  
"I like the mystery of draw. There's something about a full reveal you just can't beat, don't you agree?" As if his comment wasn't pointed enough, he followed it up by unapologetically checking her out. Clearly, the game had already started - she just didn't know it yet.  
"Okay fine. Draw it is. I'm good on poker rules. How are we working the strip part?"  
"Simple. Every lost hand merits one lost item of clothing. Paired items count as one - no individual socks. There is no betting per se, but you have the option to double down if you're feeling cocky - then your opponent can either fold, taking the single item loss, or continue, but the loser sheds 2 items instead of one. How many items are you starting with?"  
Bonnie did a quick count: Socks, shorts, top, jacket, scarf, panties, bra. "Seven"  
"I'm on four. Gotta even those odds a little."  
Bonnie cursed Kelly Donovan's closet for the hundredth time today as she realised if she removed 3 items, that would leave her with no buffer before she started showing some serious skin.  
"How about I remove one and you add two?"  
"Sounds like a plan. Gimme a sec to find something."  
Bonnie removed her jacket, reasoning that keeping the scarf covering her cleavage was preferable to the jacket covering her shoulders. He was right - she was already glad of the fire keeping the chill from her shoulders.  
"Okay, ready to play?"  
When he returned down the stairs, she fought to keep from openly gaping at him: He had added a grey suit jacket and matching tie over his black shirt, and as Caroline and Elena had reminded her numerous times, 'Salvatores in formalwear should come with a health warning'. Apparently, this applied to smart-casual as well: 'May lead to heart palpitations and poor impulse control' . That was what she would blame her next words on, anyway.  
"How about we make this a little more interesting?"  
Damon's eyes glinted as he returned to his spot on the rug. "What did you have in mind?"  
Bonnie's conscious brain was screaming 'this is a VERY bad idea!' as the words came tumbling out of her mouth, sounding far more calm and nonchalant than she felt.  
"How about the loser chooses which item to take off, then the winner removes it for them?"  
That glint in his eye quickly became something truly sinful.  
"I can definitely work with that." He gestured to the shuffled deck. "Shall we?"

The first hand she got was fairly crappy, made realistically no better by her switching 3 cards out, and she didn't want to risk bluffing a 'double down' so early on when he could easily stand to risk a few layers. However, through a sheer stroke of luck, Damon's hand was worse.  
"I can't believe you won a round on a high card."  
Bonnie tried not to feel too smug about her dumb luck.  
"So, what am I taking off of you?"  
"Nothing. You can strip me down to my skivvies later, but I'm taking off my own socks, Glinda."  
"Why, do you have ticklish feet or something?" Damon glared at her defensively as he took them off. "Oh my god, seriously? I am so using that against you later."  
"Do it and I swear I will put every VHS copy of The Bodyguard within 50 miles into a wood chipper."  
Bonnie smirked. Tempting as it was to try and test it out now, this was powerful information. Best retained for some point in the future when it was most effective.

The next round wasn't much better, and it was a pair of 5's from Bonnie that won it. Damon jokingly said it must be witchy magic messing with the deck, and that he would keep his eyes on her. And to his credit, those eyes didn't waver from hers as she slowly slid off his tie. 

By the third deal, Bonnie's hand was a little better - a pair of 8's wasn't awful - but Damon pipped her to the post with a pair of Jacks. She sat up and leaned forwards, brushing her hair out of the way for him to remove her scarf. He was leaned in so close she couldn't avoid his eyes as he spoke to her.  
"You know taking off a scarf is like taking off your underwear to a vampire, right?"  
Bonnie gave him a disbelieving look. "Yeah, right. You see my neck all the time."  
"That doesn't make unwrapping it any less intimate. Plus the scarf traps in your scent. So when you unwrap that final layer..." He leaned in so close as he removed the last narrow strip of fabric that she thought he might bite her, his nose and lips pressed against the warmth at her neck. He hummed a deep sound of appreciation against her throat that she felt all over her body and made her toes curl. She felt rather than saw his features shift, and knew if she could see him, his eyes would be red ringed and jet black, his fangs descended. And to her surprise, it was far more erotic than it was frightening. Part of her was waiting for those fangs to sink into her - practically begging for it. That same part was disappointed when a couple of seconds later, he pulled back. His features had all but normalised when their eyes met again. But the look that passed between them was different this time - charged. "Your deal."

Bonnie fought to calm her pulse as she shuffled and dealt the cards, knowing he could sense every reaction she was having. A much nicer hand this time saw a straight beat out Damon's three of a kind, and she was relieved that the next item to be removed - his jacket - was fairly innocuous. Her luck was inconsistent though, and a risky call with discarding one too many cards in an attempt to score another straight with her next hand didn't pay off. She leaned her weight back on her arms so that he could remove her long socks. Again, she was thankful for a relatively safe item, until she felt his hand graze her thigh and realised exactly how not-safe these particular socks were. He rolled it over her knee achingly slowly, brushing the back of her thigh with his knuckles as he skimmed it down her calf, and finally over her ankle. When he started the other side, her breath hitched just a little when his fingers splayed over her inner thigh before delving into the fabric and gripping the top. Again, his hands seemed to touch every inch of exposed skin on the way down and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound. Even playing a silly game, the way he handled her was pure, unapologetic seduction. Her only comparable experience was when she was intimate with Jeremy, but his touches had been those of a boy. Damon's were confident where his had been hesitant, languid where his had been rushed, precise where his had been fumbling. Every caress of his skin against hers left her in no doubt how adept he would be as a lover. He was barely touching her and it was already one of the most sensual experiences of her life. And they were still mostly clothed... 

Her next hand started poorly, but some clever switching left her with a flush, blowing Damon's pair of aces out of the water. They were now down to brass tacks, and next to go was his shirt.  
"Hey, at least I get to use my hands this time." She was trying to ease the tension, but all it did was call to mind last night, when her mouth was only barely separated from his body by a nearly identical shirt. She fought the blood rising to her cheeks.  
"Frees up that lovely mouth of yours for all sorts of other more exciting things." She looked at him aghast, and he mocked a look of shock and disgust in return. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Bon-Bon. I meant things like drinking wine, and talking."  
The sarcasm dripping from his voice and the smirk threatening to break through told her he'd meant exactly what she thought he had. She suppressed a smile and just rolled her eyes. He had actually done a pretty good job of defusing the tension... until she had unbuttoned the top few buttons, that is. Damon's chest looked like it had been sculpted from marble. She had seen him without a shirt before many times, of course, but never without the thin veil of contempt that used to hang between them (or a distracting pair of panties last night), and never this close. Close enough to touch. She wanted so badly to run her fingers over those defined ridges, see if the flesh there was as hard as it looked, or if it would yield to her touch. And that sinful 'V' at his hips served only to emphasise the dark trail of hair leading down to the almost indecently low waistband of his jeans. Surely there was no way any woman who took one look at him in bed could mistake him for human? She realised a fraction of a second too late that she was staring. To his credit, he kept the smug smirking minimal. Though Damon wasn't overly tall, he was tall enough that Bonnie had to stand on the balls of her feet to push the shirt from his shoulders. Her chest inadvertently skimmed his and she knew he would feel the heat of her body bleeding though the thin fabric of her tank top. She ran her fingers down his toned arms as she brushed the shirt to the floor.  
"Your deal."

As Bonnie took her seat opposite him, she realised she would have to concentrate twice as hard now to keep her eyes from roving over him instead of staying focused on the cards. And the stakes were certainly higher now. Her cards were good - two pair wasn't bad at all... But it wasn't enough to beat Damon's full house. Now was definitely a good time to start getting nervous. Unsure whether to stand up to make things easier, Damon answered for her by crawling over to her on all fours, the way he moved tensing and flexing the muscles in his abdomen. She sat up on her knees and he rose up to meet her. His hands glided up her hips, and when his fingers hooked under the hem of her top, her breath hitched a little (which she could blame on the coolness of his fingers against her skin). Instead of efficiently tugging the top over her head, his hands slid further up her torso, dragging the top slowly upwards. Her heart was pounding by the time his fingers ghosted over the skin underneath her bra line - a part of her she had never known was so sensitive. She may even have leaned into his touch a little as he dragged the fabric over her breasts, before raising the garment over her head and casting it aside on the floor. His eyes roamed over her, unabashedly drinking in what he saw, and coming to rest on her choice of underwear. The purple satin set she wore was the one he had commented on finding in her dresser the night before, and she had put them on this morning knowing there was a good chance he would see her in them. The strap on her left shoulder had strayed down her arm, and he pushed it back into place, taking the opportunity to run his fingers over her bared skin. When his eyes briefly met hers, they were darker than she had ever seen them, tiny rings of ice blue over blown-black pupils. His intensity was giving her butterflies, and she felt like if she spent a second longer under his silent scrutiny she might combust. She had to say something, but was so tense that her voice sounded a little raspy when she spoke.  
"Penny for your thoughts?"  
People often say 'if looks could kill'; the one Damon was giving her was 'if looks could devour'.  
"My thoughts right now aren't suitable for repeating in polite company."  
Bonnie swallowed nervously, and the way he watched the movement of her throat as she did was purely predatory. A part of her cursed her own cowardice as she moved things along, unable to handle the suspense of what he might do if she didn't.  
"I think it's your turn to deal."

The words seemed to break through whatever hypnotic effect had taken over Damon, and he backed away to sit back down. Bonnie let in a long breath, somehow both relieved and disappointed by the new distance between them. She could hardly concentrate enough to keep her hands from trembling as she took up her cards, and despite a ventured swap, a pair of 10's was the best she could offer. Her heart thudded as she laid the cards down, but she realised with some relief that his hand was worse. That relief quickly evaporated as she realised she would be removing his jeans. Damon needed little prompting and rose to his feet with a feline grace. Bonnie half thought about crawling over there on her knees, wondering if undoing his zipper while knelt close enough that he could feel her breath through the fabric of his underwear might break the last thread of his self restraint. But alas, she wasn't that brave. 

Rising to her feet, she took tentative steps towards him. She was hesitant in reaching for him, but when she made contact with the skin of his chest, it was like a current jolted through her. All she wanted was to touch him, feel him, and in spite of herself, her fingers curled against the toned panes of his abdomen, desperate for more of that delicious tactile electricity. His hands were on hers before she could form a thought, fingers lacing with hers in an explosion of invisible sparks and guiding her hands to his belt - not impatiently, but like he couldn't trust himself with her hands on him. The tips of her fingers brushed his skin every inch of the way down, savouring the way his breathing had deepened almost imperceptibly until her hands met the cool metal of his buckle. His fingers unravelled from hers to travel delicately up to her wrists, his thumbs resting on her pulse points. She tried to ignore the flames that licked against her skin where he touched as she unlatched his belt. She could feel his eyes on her, but worried if she looked up she'd never escape his gaze. She moved her right hand to undo his zipper, and his loose grip on that wrist dropped into a featherlight caress up her arm that made her knees weak. It took barely any movement for the heavy denim to pool at his feet, and he shucked the discarded jeans aside.

That 'V' of his hips that made her mouth water now met his toned, muscular thighs at a pair of form fitting black boxer briefs. And 'brief' was the word - they barely descended an inch down his thighs and cupped his ass tightly. But the opaque darkness of the material meant that, infuriatingly, any outlines that might have hinted at what lay beneath were blurred discretely. Now at a loose end, her fingers danced at the elastic waistband.  
"Uh-uh, Bon-Bon." His hands caught hers, and his fingers looped her wrists in that same strangely intimate shackle from before. She finally dared to look up at him, a renewed mischief glinting in his eyes. "If you want those, you have to win 'em - fair and square."  
His thumbs were gently massaging the pulse points at her wrists and she suddenly found it difficult to form a coherent thought. She didn't know how he made such a chaste touch so sensual.  
"What else do I get if I win?" Her voice came out so husky she barely recognised herself.  
"Win another round and find out."  
Dangerous. This was very dangerous territory to be walking into with a friend, especially when that friend was also the only other person in her world. But her desire was fast outpacing her caution.

Bonnie found it incredibly hard to concentrate with Damon mostly naked opposite her - so much so that she almost discarded one of her pair of fives when he stretched, tensing his muscles in a way that made her subconsciously lick her lips - but managed to pick up an extra five and end up with a respectable three of a kind. Her heart fluttered a little when she thought she had him beaten, but soon thundered with nerves again as she realised he had her beaten. Aside from her bra and panties, she only had her tiny shorts left to lose. She rose to meet him, and soon deft fingers were popping the button at her waistband and lowering the zip. His hands slid over her hips, and she was surprised as he moved around behind her. His shoulders brushed behind hers, and her skin sung at the contact. Slow as molasses, his hands glided down either side of her full hips, sliding the denim shorts off. If the feeling of his thumbs trailing after the fabric wasn't temptation enough, once the shorts had passed below the curve of her backside, Damon pressed his whole body into her - his lips behind her ear, his cool chest at her back, his arms firm against her side... and the unmistakeable hardness of his erection against her ass. She was suddenly struggling to breathe. His breath caressed her ear in a gentle hum as he let the shorts fall from his hands to the floor, and she felt the rumble of it in his chest. No-one had ever made her feel so womanly or desired before. He skimmed his hands back up her bare thigh as he spoke.  
"Just so you know." He hooked one thumb under the strappy waistband of her underwear. "When I win - and I will - I'm laying you down so I can take these" he snapped the elastic playfully against her skin "off with my teeth."  
Bonnie didn't think there was much he could have said to take her mind off of the impressive length pressed hard against her, but that did the trick. She wasn't sure she was still capable of speech until it came out of her mouth.  
"What makes you so sure you'll win?"  
He shifted slightly behind her and her knees went a little weak when he brushed her hair away from her neck a little. Subconsciously, she tilted her head to give him better access, not sure if she wanted him to kiss her or bite her. Instead, his fingers trailed along the bared skin, setting fire in their wake.  
"Because I want it more."  
She knew he wasn't just talking about the game anymore. Neither was she.  
"I seriously doubt that."  
"Then show me."

Bonnie peeled herself away reluctantly, but one more hand could win this for her, and she wanted her prize. It was her turn to shuffle and deal, and she fought to keep her hands from visibly shaking as she doled out the cards. Her starting hand was very strong - three of a kind - and she almost couldn't hide her excitement when swapping an additional two cards earned her a fourth.  
"I'm doubling down."  
His statement shocked her out of her confident glee.  
"What!? You're down to one, you can't double down."  
He shrugged. "You could always fold - take the lesser loss." He gave her a mischievous smile. "Who knows? If you show a little more skin, I might lose my concentration."  
Her hand was too good to throw away. What did it matter if he'd doubled down when her win was practically a sure thing? It was very likely he had nothing at all, and this was a last ditch effort to stay in the game - a bluff.  
"Not a chance."  
Damon quirked an eyebrow. "So you accept the wager, then?"  
She let a small smirk form on her lips. He wasn't expecting her to call his bluff. "I do." She lay her cards down proudly - a winning hand ninety-nine times out of a hundred.  
This, it turned out, was the one.  
"Read 'em and weep, Bon-Bon." He laid his cards out with a flourish - faces and aces, with hearts almost as red as the blood racing to her cheeks. A royal flush. 

Bonnie couldn't hear anything over the dull roaring of her pulse in her ears. Her mind was overrun as she imagined his arms around her as he unclasped her bra, his hands and mouth running over her skin as he sank down her body - oh god, he had promised to take her underwear off with his teeth... She couldn't decide if she was more excited or terrified by the prospect, but breathing had suddenly become a challenge. She panicked.  
"I... I don't think I can do this." Her arms wrapped around herself protectively. "I know what you're gonna say, and you're right, I am a flake, and this isn't fair. I can't even-"  
_Oh god, I swear if I start crying I'm going to die of embarrassment._  
"Hey, it's okay. I get it." He looked like he considered leaning in to hold her reassuringly, but decided against it in case the physical contact was too much for her right now, settling instead for taking her hand. "Things got kind of intense - my mistake."  
His voice was calm and even, which was the last thing she was expecting. Hell, even she thought she was kind of overreacting, but when she dared a glance at him, his eyes were kind and his expression was full of concern. A part of her was inwardly cursing herself that things had been derailed by her cowardice: Her mind may have had reservations, but her body was practically pulsating with need for his touch, and an insatiable curiosity for what he would have done with her laid naked before him. While it was equally relieving and disappointing that he was giving her an out, she definitely didn't want things to go back to being platonic between them. She just had to hope he was on the same page.  
"So, what's my forfeit?"  
"I think extenuating circumstances warrant a get out of jail free, Bon. You're off the hook." He gave her a wink and smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. She could tell he was taking it as a rejection, which was the last thing she wanted, so she tried to inject a little more flirtation into her response.  
"What if I don't wanna be let off the hook?" She let her eyes meet his through her lashes, trying to reignite some of the smouldering tension that now left her feeling numb in it's absence. He scanned her face as if trying to figure her out. Good luck, she thought wistfully. "What's my forfeit?"  
"Well, mine was that you picked the next game. It's still early, we could play something else, and I get to pick. Does that sound fair?"

It was more wholesome than Bonnie had been hoping for - clearly he was still worried he was going to spook her again, but she nodded. Damon sprang up from his seated position and went to rifle through the pile of board games (and Bonnie kept her ogling to a bare minimum of admiring the beautifully defined muscles of his back). When he found what he was looking for, he span the box between his hands, presenting his selection to her.  
"Twister?" She asked, incredulous.  
"Is there a problem with my choice?"  
Bonnie smiled triumphantly - not only was it the perfect pick to rebuild their tentative flirtation, it was also ideal for a girl who was captain of the gymnastics team for four years running.  
"Bring it."


	3. Chapter 3

She reached for her pile of discarded clothes, only to be interrupted by a very fake-sounding cough. "What?"  
"My version of Twister has a strict dress code."  
Okay, so maybe less wholesome than originally thought. "A dress code, huh?"  
"Mm-hmm."  
"And that would be?"  
"Well, as luck would have it, what you're wearing now is pretty much perfect." He fixed her with one of his trademark 'bedroom eyes' looks that brought back every second of contact and tension they had shared in glorious Technicolor. "Still want to play?"  
Simultaneously dialling the flirt up and giving me an out. Wow, he's good. Bonnie was conflicted. She definitely didn't want their delicate seduction/friendship balance to end - in fact, she was quickly coming to the conclusion that something would have to happen eventually to break the tension between them, so it should be straightforward. But then was this a step too far? Strip poker had been one thing, but there was an unavoidable... proximity to Twister. As intimate as the touches had been during poker, they would be more so here - at times, there would be nothing between them except skin, and every response their bodies had to one another would be palpable. Her heart fluttered at the thought.  
"Definitely."

It started off innocent. Too innocent for Bonnie's liking. The wheel would spin; they would move. But as the first round went on, she started to notice passes of skin on skin that lingered, or brushed in just such a way that it felt sensual. Then it wasn't just his arm or leg bumping hers, but his fingertips or his lips. Sometimes, she even felt his breath kiss her skin. She suppressed an involuntary shiver when his fingers ghosted over her hip as he reached to spin the wheel. Left hand blue. Bonnie shifted easily in her crab-like position, and waited for Damon to make his move. Instead, she found herself trying desperately to keep herself upright as his hand and then his arm slid down her inner thigh, inches from her sex, before finally settling on the blue circle between her legs. The sinful smile on his lips said he knew exactly what that move would do to her.  
"That's cheating."  
"Nothing in the rules about distraction. Underhanded tactics may be bad manners, but you should know by now:" He shifted slightly so that he was whispering in her ear. "I play to win." He ran his tongue along the shell of her ear, blunt human teeth catching her earlobe just as his arm shifted so that it was pressing firmly against her heat. A gasp left her throat as her body jerked in an involuntary convulsion and she tumbled to the floor, while Damon sat up and looked down at her triumphantly.   
Smug bastard.   
Bonnie was determined to play him at his own game. She arched her back slightly and stretched her arms above her head, her breasts straining against the fabric cups of her bra.   
"Maybe I could play dirty, too." She rubbed the tops of her thighs together, letting him hear her breath catch while keeping her face as innocent as she could muster. "What do you think?"  
He was looking at her with a ravening hunger in his eyes that she was pretty sure should scare her more than it turned her on, but it didn't.  
"I think..." He trailed a light caress up and down her side, starting at her hip, running up her side to the curve of her breast, "That if you keep that up..." The touch curled and swept back down to her hip, stopping just above her pantyline, heading back up in a lazy figure of eight. "We will end up not playing Twister."   
Bonnie smirked and spun the wheel. 

The next round, there was no pretence of virtue. Whenever one of them spun the wheel, they took full advantage: Bodies pressed together with bruising need, lips and hands skimmed sensitive skin... and all the while Bonnie tried to keep from moaning out loud - god, she had had actual sex less intimate than this. She was on all fours facing down, with him knelt over her, his bare skin sliding over hers. She could feel his erection against her backside, imagined she could even feel the throb of it, slow and powerful against the hummingbird pace set under her own skin. When she reached out her arm to spin, Damon leaned into her, pressing his leg firmly between hers and (blunt, human) teeth into her neck. The movement threw her off balance and she fell. Two-Nil. He lowered himself over her prone form, grinding his knee against her core in a way that made her eyes roll back, and breathed his words against her neck.  
"Ready to give in?"  
The double meaning in his words didn't escape her. And yes, the past few hours had been the most intense foreplay - she was more than ready. But despite her desperation, a part of her hated that he had the upper hand: She was soaking wet and practically keening, and he was toying with her. She wanted to even the score a little first.  
"Best three out of five?"  
She felt his smile against her skin. "I think I can take you."  
I want you to. She wriggled back against him, pressing her ass against his hardness. "I will take great pleasure in proving you wrong." 

Bonnie excused herself for a bathroom break, and was shocked at the staggering wetness she found between her legs (she hadn't thought it was even possible to be that turned on, and would have been mortified if Damon had discovered that she had such an intense reaction to him). She took the time to check herself in the mirror and fluff up her hair a little - she looked thoroughly debauched already, but it couldn't hurt to add a little more allure. Then she reached into the cabinet under the sink for her secret weapon, which she tucked carefully into the strap of her bra. She took in a steadying breath before heading back as nonchalantly as she could.

The next round, she quickly found herself positioned above him again, already dizzied and soaking wet again with anticipation from the tantalising brushes of his lips and fingers. She had already almost lost her balance once when his thigh had positioned itself between hers and pressed firmly against her sweet spot. It was her turn to spin - Right hand blue (an easy move for Damon from it's current position on red, and easier for her as it was the hand she had spun with. As she moved her hand back over him to its new circle, she palmed her secret weapon. Slowly she dragged the pin across the skin at her neck, so nervous she didn't even wince at the slight pain. She saw the exact moment when he smelt her blood exposed to the air and blue-black veins crackled along his skin, the slight warm tickle palpable at her throat as a drop ran down her collarbone.   
"Bonnie. Get off me. Now."  
"I can't do that, I would lose the game. Why what's wrong?" She played it all innocent and coy, but her heart was hammering so hard she thought it would burst through her chest. Luckily, Damon was too preoccupied to notice. Where he had been rubbing against her like a cat in heat all night, he had suddenly gone still as a corpse beneath her. Even his voice - normally smooth as velvet and oozing seduction - was rough and his words clipped.   
"Fine, you win. Now get off."  
She feigned noticing the blood for the first time (not even bothering to try and make it convincing) and lowered her hips to rest against his for balance, trying desperately to ignore the rock-hard erection pressing at her core.   
"Would you look at that? It seems like I cut myself somehow. I'm such a klutz." He wasn't even breathing. "Gosh that's quite a lot of blood from such a tiny cut, don't you think?" She brought her hand back to the cut, brushing it over her breast on the way, and caught the trickle of red liquid with her thumb. She brought it to her mouth and sucked, giving a small 'hm' of staged approval at the taste. She felt his cock twitch hard beneath her and tried to suppress her smile as he growled (actually growled!).  
"Bonnie, Please."   
She didn't think she had once heard him say 'please' before (although whether he was begging her to stop or give in, she didn't think even he knew).   
"In that case, I get to choose your forfeit. Good thing I already know exactly what I want." Bonnie leaned back in closer. "Kiss me."   
His expression softened slightly as if considering for the first time this was something other than yet more fruitless teasing. He searched her face for signs of hesitation, his eyes finally landing on those full lips and the faint stain of her blood on them. A heartbeat passed, then two, before he reached up and brushed her hair tenderly behind her ear. She briefly thought her heart might explode out of her chest if the anticipation built a second longer, and then his lips surged up to meet hers with enough force to push her back onto her knees. 

First kisses had always been hesitant, awkward affairs - shy forays into getting to know someone in a new way. This wasn't the case with Damon - his curiosity was accompanied by a maddening confidence and a furious need. He tasted her every response to him: Varying pressure from firm to featherlight all the way back to bruising, sucking her lower lip and nipping it with blunt human teeth, then his tongue flicking against the flat of hers, the underside, and teasing the tip... It was more erotic than kissing had any right to be, and she almost passed out before she remembered humans need to breathe. When she pulled away breathless and light-headed, he didn't even blink before his kisses meandered down her jaw to her neck. When he pressed a hard kiss into one particular spot just as he bucked his hips slightly to brush against her heat, a kind of keening mewl she didn't even know she was capable of came out of her, and she felt him smile against her skin before continuing his torturously slow (and remarkably restrained) path to the still-bleeding scratch at the base of her neck. 

"You're not planning to have another attack of virtue are you?" His gaze flickered back to her eyes. "Because if you're gonna let me get a taste now and then decide this was all a horrible mistake in 10 minutes, you may as well just hand me the suicide bourbon now."  
She ground her hips into him in answer, and felt a shiver of pure want go right through her. The anxiety and guilt that had stopped her before had given way to a certainty and need she scarcely know she was capable of. She realised it was because she had been unable to reconcile her growing attraction to Damon with the concept of him being "Elena's". It hadn't occurred to her how ridiculous that was until now: She would never have considered Elena "his", after all. Of course he wasn't hers, he was his, with his own agency and desires. And what he desired now was quite clearly not Elena. His lips ghosted over her skin again in a teasing counterpoint to his rough kisses and she breathed more than spoke her answer.   
"M'starting to think virtue is overrated."

She felt his small laugh exhale over the wetness where her blood sat on her skin - the blood that had broken his winning streak, but maddeningly not his self-restraint. His hand - which until now had been pulling her down against his erection and caressing her skin as his kisses drove her crazy - crept up her inner thigh in teasing circles, edging torturously slowly towards her sex. His tongue started to lave over the area surrounding the cut while his fingers gently rubbing her through the sodden fabric of her underwear. It was some relief, but nowhere near enough - her whole body felt like it was going to burst into flames, and every time his tongue hit the right spot or his fingers caught her just right, her walls convulsed around the emptiness inside her and she wanted to scream from frustration. Apparently to Damon, being undead meant he had all the time in the world, and he was going to savour every second. Bastard. 

When he had lapped up every drop that had spilled from the scratch, his fingers slid inside her panties as his mouth closed around the cut, two fingers slowly pushing their way inside her as he sucked gently. Bonnie muffled her cry of relief into his shoulder, swiftly followed by one of pleasure as his thumb brushed against her clit. Despite everything, she was still a little nervous about his bite - after all, the last time his fangs had been in her she had thought she was going to die. However, not only had he not bitten her, but after barely a taste he had moved his mouth away from the cut and was roving along the bared expanse of her neck and collarbone. For a split second, she wondered if something was wrong with how she tasted, and she grew ashamed of her body's intense reactions to his every move (especially given how slick she had been when those fingers slid into her). But as she felt him grow impossibly harder beneath her (presumably the blood starting to take effect) and heard him moan against her skin, she could no longer concentrate on anything but the avalanche of sensation he was burying her in. She didn't even notice the deft fingers of his other hand undoing her bra until he was sliding it off her arms. After spending a few minutes licking and sucking her nipples until she was breathless and keening, he started moving his hips in time with his fingers so it felt like he was fucking her with them, and in an embarrassingly short time she felt her climax building. God if he could do this with just his fingers... Blunt teeth pressed into her neck as his fingers twisted inside her and her orgasm rolled over her, the tension of the past two days of foreplay melting into waves of pleasure so intense she thought she might pass out. His fingers worked her through it, slowing and easing instinctively as she came down from her high. 

Damon's tongue flicked gently over the scratch at her neck, and for a second Bonnie thought the anticipation might kill her if he didn't bite her soon.   
"If you're waiting for an invitation, I thought it was pretty clear I already gave you one."  
She felt him smile into her neck.   
"Someone needs a lesson in the joys of delayed gratification."  
"Come again?"   
"That's the idea." Bonnie suppressed the little shiver that ran through her and tried to stay focused. She pulled back so she could meet his eyes, trying her best to ignore the smirk of pure mischief on his face. When he realised she wasn't going to give in without an answer he rolled his eyes. "Let me let you in on a little secret. Fear makes blood taste all kinds of salty and delicious, like junk food. But pleasure?" He just barely brushed her sensitive clit with his thumb and her whole body almost convulsed. "Pleasure makes it rich and sweet, like syrup." She had never seen eyes convey so much pure sin in one look as his were right now.   
"I'm guessing you have a sweet tooth?"   
"Two of them." He pressed the tips of his fangs gently against her neck for emphasis. "You're gonna taste like cotton candy when I'm done with you."   
The idea of him playing her like an instrument as nothing more than foreplay was almost equally as tempting as it was nerve-wracking. Could her body even handle that?  
"What if I can't wait?"  
"I intend to keep you very occupied. Besides," he leaned in to whisper and she shivered at the feel of his breath on her ear. "Your blood isn't the only thing I'm dying to get a taste of."  
Bonnie could have sworn her heart stopped beating for a moment.

Turns out he wasn't planning to give her time to panic. She squealed as in one swift motion he had withdrawn his fingers from her, thrown himself onto his back, and pulled her up so she was straddling his face, the thin and soaked gusset of her panties the only barrier between them. She could feel his breath against the damp fabric, followed abruptly by the sensation of herself flooding in anticipation. He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the fabric and she felt her whole body tense as his tongue gently probed.   
"I know I promised to take these off with my teeth, but that's gonna have to wait until next time."  
Her mind caught on the part about there being a 'next time', and before she knew it he had torn her underwear to shreds and was licking a broad stripe up her centre. Bonnie swore loudly and was suddenly very grateful for the strong hands either side of her hips holding her upright, as otherwise her legs would have buckled at that first pass of his tongue. A filthy moan that was the stuff of pure fantasy came from Damon and it wasn't until he pulled her in tighter to his mouth that she realised he was relishing the taste of her, and the thought was almost as intoxicating as what he was doing to her. He dipped his tongue inside her, flicking and twisting it in a way that made her whole body quake. It could have been minutes or hours but she was so drunk on the sensations he was wringing out of her, she honestly couldn't tell. She had her fingers twisted in his hair so hard it would've hurt a normal guy, but he barely even seemed to notice. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, he drew his tongue out of her and replaced it with his fingers, as he brought that wicked tongue to rest against her clit and hummed his pleasure in a moan she felt more than heard. Her body jolted and she came so hard she thought her bones would shatter. He didn't let up, fingers at her hips holding her down hard enough to bruise, and for a second tears brimmed in her eyes at the overload of sensation. She wanted him to stop, but at the same time she thought she might die if he did. He wrung another two orgasms out of her with his tongue and fingers before he eased off her, leaving her breathless and wrecked.

"You taste like heaven, you know that? I could go down on you all damn day."  
"Must be a witch thing." Bonnie managed to breathe out.  
"Nope. Been with witches before This is a Bonnie thing." He dragged his teeth over her inner thigh. "Ready to give me a taste of something else?"  
She wondered how many of her brain cells he must have fried for her to have forgotten that this was still just foreplay.   
"Will it hurt?"  
She could feel his smirk as he nuzzled her thigh. "Not in a bad way."  
She shivered. "Do it." She braced herself for his bite, but to her surprise he rolled her over onto her back, sinking his body down to be pressed flush with her, he nuzzled into her neck. When his fangs finally pierced her skin, the pinch felt almost good. Then, at that first taste of her blood, a devastatingly sexy groan of pure satisfaction escaped from Damon, as his (annoyingly still fabric-clad) erection snapped against her and pressed dizzyingly hard into her overstimulated core. Then he started to grind against her, and the pulsation of her blood flooding into him made her whole body throb, setting the rhythm as he made her see stars. She had never felt anything like it and suddenly it made perfect sense why people would die for this feeling. Despite the almost rapturous pleasure, the clawing emptiness inside her was screaming for him, and she felt like she would die if she came again without him inside her. Her hands clawed in pure desperation at his sides, his back, his underwear, as tears (of frustration or euphoria, she couldn't tell which) welled in her eyes. When her body's wordless begging failed, she struggled to remember how to speak, barely recognising the pleading, incoherent voice that emerged: A frantic prayer.  
"Damon.... inside me.... now.... God, please I can't... please."  
It was like hearing her beg snapped whatever remained of his self-control. With a growl, Bonnie felt him shift slightly as he pulled himself free of his underwear and in one powerful thrust, he entered her.  
Time stopped. There was nothing else in that instant than the feeling of him inside her - his fangs in her neck, his cock spreading her wide, her body yielding to his in every way. Her vision whited out and the universe shrank to the head of a pin before detonating in a blast of pure ecstasy.

When she came back to herself, Damon's forehead was rested against hers and they were both shaking - her quaking with aftershocks, him trembling with the restraint of remaining still inside her. Her whole body was tingling and she could feel the wetness of tears against her cheeks, and she still felt like she hadn't really returned to her body yet.  
Until he started moving.  
She was beyond sensitive from her previous orgasms (she'd lost count of how many), and she felt every inch, every millimetre as he slid almost fully out of her and back inside. He rolled his hips when he was fully sheathed inside her and her body instinctively bucked up to meet him like she couldn't get enough (and really, she couldn't). His stuttered exhale quickly became her new favourite sound and his eyelids fluttered shut as he brought his lips down to meet hers, his fingers tangling with hers as if he couldn't touch enough of her skin at once. As he built to a steady rhythm, everything felt like it was in slow motion and she hoped she would never come down from this high - would never have to stop feeling this. One hand slid down her side to hook her leg up over his hip and something in the way he had realigned himself had him hitting that spot inside her so perfectly, it must've short-circuited something in her brain because she was pretty sure what she was saying wasn't even words. Maybe something along the lines of 'ohfuckingjesusyesrightthereohmygoddamonfuck'. Apparently sex with Damon wasn't just good, it was a fucking religious experience because in one night he had her seeing heaven and speaking in tongues. To try and stem the tide of nonsense coming out of her mouth she sank her teeth into his neck, which apparently if you're Damon Salvatore is one hell of a button pusher, because she felt his hips stutter as he swore against her skin and she felt him rush into her before he stilled. Breathless and spent, she settled into the bliss of the feeling of his weight on top of her. All good things must come to an end.

Apparently, though, this didn't.   
At least, not yet.   
It wasn't more than a few seconds later when Bonnie found herself pulled up into his lap as Damon rose up to his knees, hands on her hips steadying her as he drove up into her so powerfully it made sparks explode behind her eyelids.  
"Wait, didn't you just...? Oh fuck..." Her sentence was cut off by him taking her nipple into his mouth and laving it with his tongue as he sucked. It left his mouth with obscene wet 'pop'.  
"What, you thought I was one and done? Please, give me some credit."   
Zero refractory period. Zero. Her mind was spinning.  
"So how long...?"  
"You might want to clear your schedule for a couple days."   
Her heart skipped a beat.  
Days.  
As a hand snaked between them and found her clit, she was glad he was holding her upright as her whole body convulsed.  
"Do I need to remind you I'm human."  
His teeth moved up to catch her earlobe and he whispered against the shell of her ear.   
"You could always forfeit."  
Forfeit? Oh, hell no.  
She clenched herself around him and smirked at the filthy obscenities that poured from him in response.   
"Game on."


End file.
